I won’t be forgotten


Private// picture from my last blog: tusensmil.wordpress.com


Lying in bed, staring at the glowing stars in the ceiling. Listening to the soft voice of my mother and curling my cold toes under the warm duvet. She runs her fingers through my curly hair while telling a bedtime story. Tucks me in, kisses my forehead and turns the light off. The stars glow more intense in the dark and I fall asleep with mum’s last words echoing in my head. The very last words of tonight’s bedtime story.

We’ve all had our fair share of bedtime stories. Why stop now?

We dream at night, we dream at day. We tell each other stories, we make up stories in our head. Why don’t write these stories down? Every word can be a story and every sentence can create a little piece of originality. Every original piece of text can fill a blog with new bedtime stories.

Yep, it looks like I’m back on this lovely road where pictures really do say more than a thousand words and where diary-thoughts comes out on paper for all to see. Scary, but oh so lovely.


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